


The Fall of the Dragon

by evolfx



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: English is not my native language, Gen, because the feels are never enough, haver mercy of my poor soul, might be added to a series later on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 09:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7309618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evolfx/pseuds/evolfx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The two mighty dragons would always argue about how to keep the world in balance.<br/>One of them was destined to succumb to the other...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fall of the Dragon

The Shimada clan had a centuries long history.

Deadly assassins and martial art experts, whose power had always grown more and more - in time - until it gave life to a strong and vast empire.

The beautiful city of Hanamura - " _village of the flowers_ " meant the name - positioned at the feet of the Fuji-san with the perpetually snow-clad top, had become the capital and its large castle, surrounded by the blossoming _sakura_ , its pulsing heart.

Little to nothing had changed from the times of the ancients; the local population was aware of the activities - more or less illegal - managed by the clan, but they kept nonetheless to carry on an absolutely normal life, dictated not by a code of silence, but by that resignation feeling offered by a reality destined not to change.

With the coming of new times, of the innovation, the Shimada had discharged the clothes of ninja to wear those of businessmen, merchants of death dedicated to arms and drugs dealing to an almost global level.

A very profitable trade and more than enough to sustain and ensure a future to the members of the clan and everything they had built...

Until the untimely demise of the head of the Shimada family.

Victim - as many others before him - of a subtle murder planned by one of the several - perhaps too many - rival clans of the yakuza, which didn't wish for anything but the fall of the empire that was due to them.

The tough blow delivered to the lords of Hanamura had brought a big turmoil between the ranks of the clan, but not the uncertainty for there was already someone worthy to fully inherit the role of leader: Hanzo Shimada.

Oldest son of the head of the family, he had immediately displayed a natural predisposition to the leadership and an innate sense of duty that his brother Genji - the breakneck second-born - had never had and which, therefore, made him the perfect successor to the late father.

Trained from a very young age in the art of _ninjustu_ , the two brothers had become dreadful and capable warriors at the same time.

However, Genji had never shown any kind of interest in the activities of the clan, unlike Hanzo.

He was a very clever boy but awfully indolent, the outcome of a carefree childhood - as favourite son of his father - who had turned him spoiled and uncaring: his only thoughts were women and the good life.

His own daredevil behaviour which more than once had gotten himself into serious troubles, represented a grave threat towards the clan elders and their plans, now that the head of the family was longer amongst them.

They needed to eradicate _immediately_ that danger.

 

Black clouds, with reddish shades and full of rain, darkened the starry tapestry of the summer sky over Hanamura.  
The first raindrops announced to the commuters - coming home after a long day at work - the arrival of the stormy front, appeared slightly beyond the horizon during the early hours of that summer-like afternoon.

The low rumble of the thunders and the dripping of the heavy rain was like a background to what was about to happen inside the big hall of the Shimada castle.

Positioned at the ground floor, it faced a small garden decorated by cherry trees and surrounded, on three sides, by the others structures of the huge palace.  
It was a place that, in the slow and unstoppable flow of the centuries, had witnessed important events - of those which go down in history - and if only it could talk, it wouldn't have hesitated to tell all those incredible stories to its visitors.

Inside of it, two dragons painted and intertwined in an eternal dance of coils and claws towered feral and proud on the large wall at the bottom. They were the main protagonist brothers of an ancient legend passed, inside the Shimada family, since the time of the ancestors.  
They represented virtues such as loyalty, courage, compassion and many others which the members of the clan claimed to be proud promoters.

Virtues that, in the sad truth of the facts, had no real value.

And right at the feet of the solemn beasts, nearby the votive altar and exactly in the middle of the room, stood the two Shimada brothers.

The young men were on their feet, each facing the other, their figures enveloped in the clothes with colours and symbols of the clan, enlightened by the warm light spread by the decorative lanterns placed at the extremities of the small wooden bridge which linked the room to the entrance.

Hanzo finally spoke, after an unnerving and utter silence interrupted only by the rumble of the thunders.

"Genji, do you know the reason why I wanted to meet you here?" he asked severe to the irresponsible daredevil before himself, his hands clenched in fists so tightly that his knuckles had paled.

"Sure I do." The other nodded. "And I already know what you want to tell me, brother."

Hanzo tilted his head slightly and a straight lock of black hair slipped in front of his eyes, his expression wasn't surprised at all.

They had discussed in the past about that topic, they had faced it so _many_ times that they even lost the count.

And Genji had always - categorically - refused to cooperate with the clan, to embrace his fate as it had been in his rights; his stubborn reluctance about the question had done nothing but worsen the already difficult relationship with the clan elders, who considered him an incompetent inept who had betrayed - with his wicked behaviour - his own family.

Hanzo had tried in every possible way to make him understand the gravity of his actions, of the consequences they would have brought in the near future.

But Genji was stubborn.

The young Shimada was not interested in the businesses of the clan, in reality he had no intention at all to accept anything of that life to which he was destined - along with his brother - way before his own birth.

Various amusements and pretty women were short-lived escapades from an environment that had become suffocating, when - with the awareness of the adolescence - he had seen it for what it truly was: _wrong_.

It wasn't like that how he wished to carry on his existence, he wanted to be free and live as he saw fit. This is what he had always replied to Hanzo, despite his protests.

The concept of individual freedom though was inexistent to the clan, there were only obedience and complete devotion to it.

The rebel looked at Hanzo straight in his eyes so similar to his, eyes unable to hide the stormy mix of emotions that his brother hid under his own mask of apparent calmness.

"You know my answer." he smiled defiant, with all the audacity typical of his age.

A lightning spread across the dark sky and flooded the big hall with light, projecting neat and spectral shadows on the walls.

The two young Shimada knew perfectly that, with that verbal argument, had vanished - forever - their last chance of safety from the clutches of a heinous fate.

Both had hoped, had _prayed_ never to come to this.

Hanzo took a deep breath and rose his hand to the hilt of his own katana, encased in the scabbard he carried on his back.

"Draw your sword." he ordered his brother with icy coldness, pointing the sword towards him.

Genji executed the order right away without the slightest hesitation, and the blade of Ryu-ichimonji - his own sword - shimmered in a silvery glint under the light of the lanterns.

And like in a silent ritual made only of gestures and looks, the two Shimada each assumed a position that didn't leave any doubt about its interpretation.

The days spent together laughing, joking and training togheter, talking about everything and anything were over; there was only the present time and, with it, the realisation of the worst of their nightmares.

A lightning crossed again the sky and, with a loud roar, the two brothers crossed their swords.

So began their mortal duel.

The blade of Hanzo lowered swiftly from above. Genji's rose up immediately to par, deviating the blow and counterattacking a moment later.

The brothers had been trained by their late father in the use of several weapons and the sword had turned out to be the favourite item of both of them; its versatility in battle offered a vast choice of techniques which the two had learned and tested during their intensive training.

Hanzo had proved to be a great archer, one of those who rarely misses their target, but he was also deadly with the _katana_. Genji was likewise brilliant, but he lacked a lot for what concerned the concentration which he used to waste elsewhere; nonetheless, this didn't impede him to match up his older brother.

The lashing of the violent storm raging over the city of Hanamura covered the metallic clang of the swords and the savage yells of the young men, of which only the mighty dragons were silent witnesses.

Hanzo made a feint that drove the other exactly where he wanted and, with a quick movement of his own wrist, his katana claimed the first blood.

Genji let out a pained moan and immediately jumped backwards, away from his opponent.

On his right arm had just appeared a cut, clear and deep, from where now there was a copious amount of blood dripping; some drops had splattered to the ground, onto the _tatami_ floor.

Hanzo waved the sword in front of himself, cleaning it with a resolved gesture from the red fluid that had stained its blade.

He'd been waiting for him and, despite the deep wound, Genji didn't waste any time.

The two went straight on dancing their deadly dance, on the notes of a music formed by the roar of the thunders and the swords that clashed - over and over - above their heads.

The injuries his older brother had been inflicting weren't enough to undermine the spirit of the youngest Shimada: both arms and legs were covered in cuts, the white clothes reduced to rags stained with blood.

Hanzo had admired, envied and hated more than once his stubborness.

However, now he could no longer stand it.

The two katana clashed one more time, spreading small yellow-orange sparks where the blades of steel rubbed roughly against each other.

"Look at yourself! Even _now_ you are fleeing from your responsibilities!" Hanzo yelled, his breathing warm and heavy.

They were face to face, so close that they could almost brush each other.

"You should fight me and not show any mercy. Yet you do _nothing_!" He carried on his monologue. "Is this the way to bring honour to one of your opponents?!" His own face was like twisted in a grimace full of pain that didn't come from the body, but from deep within the soul.

Ryu-ichimonji shook visibly in Genji's hands, his forehead covered in sweat as he tried to resist the pressure applied by the other; his legs would have given in from a moment to the next, if he hadn't found - and quickly - a way to evade and gain again some distance.

"Surely it is not by killing each other that we will find honour!" He growled between gritted teeth due to the big strain. "I never wished to fight you, Hanzo! I _never_ wanted!" He added, the voice hoarse but determined.

"You must do it!" insisted Hanzo, discharging on him all his own weight in hope to crush him as soon as possible; he pushed his sword against Ryu-ichimonji which was about to slit Genji's throat where his pulsing jugular was.

"No!" The ninja with hair dyed green exclaimed, he could feel the cold metal of the blade a few inches over his own skin.

"With your recklessness you betrayed the clan!" The other Shimada hissed, towering on him. "There is no place for those who repudiate their own identity!"

" _NO_!" Genji yelled back at the top of his lungs. With a huge strain which cost him all the energies left, he succeeded to push Hanzo away, almost making him stumble upon the tatami for the unpredictability of that gesture, before falling on one knee, exhausted.

Contrary to what was supposed to be expected, Hanzo didn't attack him.

He stood still where he'd stopped his mad run caused by that sudden acceleration. And now he observed, astonished and disgusted at the same time, the wreck that had become the one who once he'd called brother.

He could barely lean on his katana, planted on the floor, the head reclined on his bloody arms which still filrmly held the hilt, the eyes were half closed and his breathing difficult.

This would have never happened if only Genji had given a different response, an answer that would have spared Hanzo from feeling such contrasting emotions like hate and regret.

However he couldn't fail his own duty.

"I'm sorry, brother." He murmured, barely fighting back the tears that he must not cry, not in front of the traitor.

Before him, the young Shimada rose his tired head and saw it. He saw, surfacing from the arm of his brother and then from his blade, a light with a bluish shade which, soon enough, took the shape of two dragons - the same that protected the Shimadas for generations - their mighty roar echoed throughout the whole palace.

They launched themselves towards him, hitting him like the wild stream of an overflowing river.

He felt himself burning from the inside out, from the head to toes like a scorching coal, fire running through his flesh and bones, the pain he felt was so much that he lost the last glimmer of consciousness he possessed.

No, it wasn't _just_ his body and consciousness were being consumed...

It was an instant. Genji fell to the ground with a loud thud, bringing with himself the big scroll -just above the votive altar- where the fire extinguished itself.

And there he laid, stiff and motionless.

Hanzo moved forwards, with disbelief, his pace uncertain, towards the motionless body of the one who once he had called brother and had loved so much. He had fulfilled his duty, as it was right to be, but...

At _what_ cost?

He immediately threw the sword away and clearly heard the steel breaking along the blade due to the violent impact with the ground. He didn't pay too much attention to that: from that day on he would have never ever held a sword again, for the rest of his miserable life.

He knelt aside the boy turned man and, with shaking hands, he picked up gently the tormented body deprived of the flaming spark of life..

_What_ had he done?

"Genji..." He murmured, keeping him tightly pressed to his own body in a gesture almost protective, while warm and bitter tears so long repressed started to ran silently on his cheeks. The dragon had fallen.

**Author's Note:**

> The question that, needless to say, is eating everyone since "Dragons" came out is: exactely WHAT did Hanzo to Genji to..turn him the way he is now?   
> So this came to my mind.  
> Probably I'm not the only one who thought about it? XD I can just say writing this left my already-scarred feels rather devastated, to say the least.


End file.
